


Blackout

by muse_in_absentia



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: A Little Relationship Advice, Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blackouts, Crossover, F/F, M/M, Pre-Relationship, a little magic, in both cases
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-08-22
Packaged: 2020-09-24 01:37:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20350213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/muse_in_absentia/pseuds/muse_in_absentia
Summary: Sometimes, ending up blackout drunk doesn't happen the way one might think.





	Blackout

**Author's Note:**

> This is for the incredibly fun [intoabar fest.](https://intoabar.dreamwidth.org/profile) My prompt was _Grantaire (Les Misérables) goes into a bar and meets... Minerva McGonagall (Harry Potter)!_ Which, as it turns out, was a great combination.
> 
> Thank you so much to [chasingbluefish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chasingbluefish/pseuds/chasingbluefish) for the amazing beta job. Without this would still be confusing all who tried to read it. :)

The summer heat was a stifling thing, heavy and damp, and threatening to weight down what little spring Grantaire still had in his step after three whiskeys and that ill-advised body shot he had done off of Jehan at the beginning of the evening. 

“I thought London wasn’t supposed to be this hot,” he grumbled to himself, leaning against the wall outside the club his friends had settled on for the night. Usually he would be the first one to suggest a night of dancing and drinking, especially when visiting a new city for the first time, but tonight the heat was getting to him, making his head pound in a way that had nothing to do with the music, and he had snuck outside for some air. Besides, this was the third night they had all gone out, and he was starting to get tired. 

The brick was rough at his back, and Grantaire pressed into it, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment, not sure if he wanted his phone to ring with one of his friends looking for him or not. He didn’t really expect them to notice he was missing from the crowd for at least another hour, and by then he could be safely back at the hotel they were all staying in, with maybe a detour for another whiskey someplace quiet. 

Jehan would worry, he knew, and so would Joly, but he didn’t have the energy to stay in the throngs of people, especially since Enjolras had begged off of going dancing with the rest of them under the guise of needing to get a good night’s sleep. Combeferre and Marius had also decided not to go out with the rest of the group, but it was Enjolras that he missed. 

_It’s just no fun when you’re not here, Apollo._ Grantaire texted to Enjolras before he thought better of it. 

He sent a second message to the group text, letting them all know that he was heading back to the hotel and not to worry about him, then he pocketed his phone and pushed himself away from the wall, wandering off into the gloom. 

The streetlights were dim, casting a faint yellowish glow over the pavement, and Grantaire felt like he was melting into it, as hazy as the halos filtering down, leaving flickering shadows between himself and his thoughts. 

“Yeah, I definitely need another drink or two before I try and sleep,” he muttered to himself, just drunk enough to let his words fall out of his mouth instead of tripping around his brain unspoken even into the empty night air. His footfalls were accenting his words with percussive slaps against the ground, brisk and purposeful even though he had no idea where he was going. Years of sleepless nights filled with post-midnight wanderings had taught him that the more you looked like you had a goal the less likely people were to bother you, and he very decidedly didn’t want to be bothered just then. 

A peel of laughter fluttered out through an open door, carried out by the strains of music ten years out of date, grainy coming through clearly low-end speakers. Grantaire glanced inside, but seeing the size of the crowd hanging around the door he kept walking. 

His phone pinged in his pocket, but he ignored it, assuming it was just Jehan checking in. He didn’t have the energy to explain, so he just kept walking. 

A couple blocks later a flurry of movement caught his eye, and he turned to see a cluster of young men and women, six or seven of them, leaning on each other, laughing, and tumbling their way down the street. There was something strange about them, their clothes seemed off, and when he tried to look closer it was like they slid just out of view. 

Curious, he changed his trajectory and started to follow behind them. 

As he got closer it became apparent that a large quantity of alcohol had been consumed, and that the night was just beginning, and Grantaire grinned to himself. They were quiet, so quiet he almost couldn’t tell they were there, so wherever they were headed might be just the kind of place he was looking for. 

Slowly, hoping no one called him out for being a creepy stalker, Grantaire closed the distance between himself and the small group of what appeared to be friends, letting them lead him into a small pub that he probably wouldn’t have even known was there if he hadn’t been tailing them. 

The first thing that Grantaire noticed was that it was quiet. People sitting at small tables, or at the bar, drinking, smoking, and talking in reasonable tones. There was no music beyond the clank of glasses and the murmur of companionship. 

Not having anyone to share a table with, Grantaire slid up to the bar and settled in next to a stern looking woman that almost made him rethink wanting another drink just from the glance she threw at him before turning away to a companion on her other side. 

The bartender was at the other side of the room, smoke clinging to the rafters and making everything seem a little dreamy, and Grantaire took the break to watch the people around him, wondering if he’d stepped into the remnants of some sort of convention. 

The clothing choices were odd at best, and Grantaire found himself grinning, liking this place already. 

In the corner at a small table a couple of older women were sitting with glasses of something bright blue sharing a pipe between them, plumes of smoke blooming up in gentle curls and dissipating slowly, lingering in a hazy umbrella. 

The group that Grantaire had followed in had slid into a booth across the room and were laughing quietly together and he was forcefully reminded of his own friends that he had left at the club. Smiling faintly to himself, Grantaire turned back to the bar to wait for the bartender to come back his direction. 

“It’s summer, Minerva, it wouldn’t kill you to loosen up a little.” 

With nothing to distract him, Grantaire couldn’t help but overhear the conversation unfolding to his left, although he tried very hard to turn his attention elsewhere. 

The snort directly next to him, however, was sort of hard to miss. 

“When have you ever known me to loosen up, Rolanda?” 

There was a soft laugh and then, quietly, “It’s been known to happen.” A chair scraped the floor and a woman with short grey hair stood up, clapping her companion on the shoulder and headed towards the back of the pub, where Grantaire could only assume the loo was. Either that or the woman knew the owner of the bar and was letting herself into the back. It wouldn’t be the first time he had accidentally ended up integrated with people with an in someplace. 

The woman who remained sitting flushed a faint pink as her friend stood up, but then her mouth pinched down into a tight line, and the color receded from her cheeks almost as if she had willed it away. Grantaire immediately wanted her to teach him that trick. 

She did, however, continue watching where her friend went in a way that Grantaire recognized on a personal level. 

“How did you do that?” he asked, before he could contain himself, mentally cursing the way his mouth ran away with him. 

“Excuse me?” she asked, turning one of the most disapproving faces he had ever seen at him, giving him a dismissive once over over the top of her glasses. 

Grantaire, who was remarkably used to disapproving looks, ignored the initial instinct to apologize for his existence, although it didn’t stop him from wincing internally at his grungy appearance. Hair untamed, jeans splattered with paint, he was fairly certain there was a hole in the sleeve of his plain tee-shirt. He hadn’t cared when he was leaving the hotel with his friends, but now, under the glare of this woman he had never met he was struck by the sudden desire to sit up straight and tuck his shirt in. 

He shook his head hard, trying to shake it hard enough to shake loose the feeling, having never before been inclined to let anyone else make him feel any worse about himself than he made himself feel on a daily basis. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude, but I was watching for the bar tender down at the other end of the bar and you’re right in my line of sight. I watched you just _wish_ your blush away, and I’m incredibly jealous. I want to know your secrets. That was amazing.” 

“I’m quite sure I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

Grantaire almost let it go, distracted by the bartender coming their direction, but before he could flag him down the woman next to him did it for herself. 

“Two Firewhiskies please, Tom,” she said with a familiar nod at the bartender that had Grantaire revisiting his idea that maybe these women knew the owner. They didn’t appear the types to be regulars. 

“Firewhisky? Sounds interesting, I’ll take one myself,” he cut in, hoping to sneak an order in before the bartender managed to turn away. 

Grantaire could practically feel the narrowed eyes turning to stare at him. 

“What are you doing here?” 

“Looking for a drink. Same as you, I would imagine.” 

“No,” she shook her head, and accepting her drink without even looking at where it came from. “What are you doing _here_?” 

“Oh!” Grantaire grinned and shrugged. “I followed that group in the corner in. It looked quiet.” 

Narrowed eyes focused on Grantaire for a long moment, and he was suddenly feeling exhausted and ready to go back to the hotel and wallow in self-pity for a little while before passing out and starting fresh in the morning. 

A glass appeared at his hand and he dropped a few crumpled bills onto the counter before picking it up and throwing it back with one long practiced swallow, letting the burn ground him in something familiar, even if it was more pronounced than he was used to. 

“Look,” he said finally. “I don’t know what it is about my being here that bothers you so much, but I just want a drink or three and then I’m gone.” 

“I would highly recommend that this not be the place that you have them,” Minerva said, finally, picking up her own drink and taking a sip, before turning to face Grantaire fully. “This isn’t the sort of place you should be.” 

“Look, as eager as I am to take advice from a woman named for the goddess of wisdom, I have my own vengeful Apollo back at the hotel, and I’m rather immune to having disappointed deities. I already caught on that something is happening here that I’m not supposed to know about. The floating candle in the corner and lack of proper electricity was a fairly strong tip off. I’m not going to say anything, and with another few drinks in me I probably won’t even remember. Don’t worry yourself over me.” He tipped back the last few drips of alcohol from his glass and set it down conspicuously close to the edge of the bar in the hopes that it would serve to flag down the bartender for him. 

Another glass appeared at his hand, and he didn’t see if it got there by itself or not, and he was slightly disappointed in himself for not paying better attention. 

Holding long eye contact with Minerva he picked up the glass and took a long swallow. She pinched the bridge of her nose, just below her glasses, mouth becoming a thin line, and Grantaire saluted her as he put his glass back down. 

“Oh, and as long as we’re in the business of giving out unsolicited advice tonight, you might want to tell your friend how you really feel,” he added, trailing his fingers through the condensation that had built up on the edge of the bar beneath his glass. 

Grantaire was surprised when Minerva didn’t so much as blink at his statement, just lifted her glass and drank. When she set the glass down again, she pushed her glasses up her nose and frowned at him the thick glass making her eyes look larger than they actually were. “What makes you think I haven’t?” she asked. 

“Well, at least you’re not denying it,” he shrugged, running a hand through his hair, and trying not to wince when he got caught, tugging at his curls in a way that was neither intentional nor enjoyable. 

“I’ve found there is little to be gained by denying things simply for the sake of denying them.” 

Grantaire flashed a small smile. “Then why haven’t you said anything?” 

“I don’t plan on repeating myself.” 

“I know you haven’t because I know the look,” Grantaire said, picking his drink back up and downing the rest of it before signaling for a third. He would probably regret it in the morning, particularly after the drinks he had had at the club, but suddenly he wasn’t feeling all too prepared to talk emotions with this woman who seemed to see right through all his bluster, even if had been the one to start the conversation. It wasn’t as if seven drinks was the worst thing he had done to himself lately. 

The bartender deposited another drink at his elbow before nodding his head at Grantaire’s inadvertent companion and heading back to the other end of the bar where a small group of middle-aged men were trying to get his attention. 

“Well, then I suppose one might ask you the same question?” 

Grantaire tipped his glass at the question, and drank some more to give himself time. He was starting to think that this Firewhisky was stronger than he had originally thought. His head wouldn’t usually be swimming this badly after even six whiskies and a tequila in one night. 

Finally, he shook his head before dropping it onto his arms. “I tell him every day. He just doesn’t seem to notice.” It was too much the truth and suddenly he was embarrassed with himself for sharing so much with a total stranger, even one who might have some sympathy for his situation. 

The seat on the other side of Minerva gave a groan and Grantaire peeled his eyes open to see that her friend had returned. This revelation was dwarfed by the fact that he didn’t remember closing his eyes. 

“Well, I’ve said more than I meant to, and I should probably find my way back to my hotel now before I forget how to find my way to the door. At least think about what I said.” He nodded once to Minerva before flashing his brightest smile at her friend, hoping it didn’t look too wobbly, and standing up, only needing a couple of seconds to steady himself. 

“I feel like I’ve missed something,” Minerva’s friend said quietly, tossing a worried look at Grantaire before turning to Minerva with a questioning look. 

“I’ll tell you all about it after I get another drink, Rolanda,” Minerva said softly, putting a hand on Rolanda’s arm and giving Grantaire a small, tight nod. “Oh, and R?” 

Grantaire startled. He was quite sure he had never told her his name at all, let alone the name his friends called him. 

“I rather hope I won’t see you in here _again_ tomorrow,” she continued, raising an eyebrow at him just before a bright flash of light burst in front of his eyes. 

When the lights cleared from his eyes Grantaire blinked slowly around him only to realize, with dawning horror, that he had no idea where he was or how he had gotten there, or even what he had been doing since he left his friends at the club. Even if it had only been a few minutes three whiskies and a tequila shouldn’t have left him having blackouts. He drank more than that regularly. 

It took him a moment to realize, through his sudden panic, that his phone was ringing in his pocket. He gave himself two solid seconds to let the relief wash over him. He could trust his friends to find him. 

Wrangling his phone out of his too tight jeans with drink-clumsy fingers he saw that he had 37 texts and 14 missed calls before he noticed the “Apollo” flash across the screen and he swiped his phone open quickly. “Apollo, what can I –” he was cut off abruptly by Enjolras shouting. 

“Where the fuck have you been?” 

“Aww, I didn’t know you worried,” Grantaire cooed, just for the way it would get Enjolras to growl at him. He watched as a tabby cat that looked a little bit like it was wearing spectacles slowly wound their way out from between two buildings, slinking through spaces that they should never fit through, and rubbing their side against the bricks of the building they were passing by. 

“We were all worried, you sot. You’ve been gone for _hours_ and no one knew where you had gone.” 

“Wait, what? Hours? That’s not right. I just left the club a couple of minutes ago.” 

“We’ve all been calling and texting you, why haven’t you answered?” Enjolras asked, changing the subject before Grantaire could start to wallow in the idea of lost hours. A small part of him preened at the idea that Enjolras knew him well enough to steer the conversation away from that topic, but he didn’t let that feeling settle, he knew that was the fastest way to let hope fester, and hope was never a safe emotion to let take hold. Also, he was missing hours, and changing the subject didn’t erase the knowledge that he had apparently blacked out part of his evening from his memory. 

“Something must be wrong with my phone, it never rang,” Grantaire said slowly. 

“Two nights in a row, R. You’ve done this two nights in a row. Are we going to have to assign you a babysitter for the rest of the trip?” 

“Are you offering?” Grantaire leered, mostly to keep himself from forgetting how to breathe. Two nights? He had disappeared two nights in a row? How bad had his drinking gotten that he didn’t feel that drunk and was losing chunks of time multiple days in a row? His head was spinning, and he didn’t think it was entirely from the three whiskies he had had in the club, even compounded by an extra body shot done at the beginning of the night. He let himself sink down onto the stoop of the closest building, hoping no one would come along that might care if he borrowed the steps for a moment until his head stopped whirling. 

The tabby cat came and rubbed up against his ankles, and he absently reached down to scratch them under the chin, squeezing his eyes shut for a long moment before blinking hazily open again, breathing stuttering out in short little puffs. 

“If it would keep me from having to worry about you, then yes.” 

Grantaire wanted to tease, to flirt, to do anything with the information that Enjolras was willing to spend extra time with him. That Enjolras _worried_ about him. Anything to lighten the dread that was slowly setting in his chest and squeezing. He didn’t succeed, however, in convincing himself it was okay to poke fun at the way that Enjolras’ voice was trembling, and Grantaire briefly let himself considered that it might not be with anger. 

For the first time in a very long time Grantaire just let himself feel small. 

“Can we argue about this in person? Please? Just send someone to find me and then you can yell at me all you want. I won’t even fight you about it.” 

“I’m already on my way,” Enjolras said, his voice going abruptly soft. “I just need you to tell me some of the things that are around you.” 

Squinting through fuzzy eyes, Grantaire rattled off the names of a handful of shops that he could see without moving, and hoped that that would mean anything to Enjolras. 

“How?” Enjolras asked, sounding less like he was looking for a response and more incredulous than Grantaire could remembering him sounding in recent history. “I was just through there not five minutes ago.” 

“What were you doing here?” Grantaire asked before he could stop himself. 

“That’s where I found you _last_ night,” Enjolras answered just before the phone clicked dead. 

Shoving his phone back into his pocket, he started looking around for something, anything familiar, the cat slowly slinking back the way they came. Grantaire almost asked them to stay until Enjolras found him, just so he wouldn’t have to be alone, but he dismissed the thought. Asking a cat for anything never went the way one might hope. 

Forcing himself to stand back up and swipe at his face so he appeared at least moderately presentable, Grantaire took a couple of slow deep breaths. 

Rapid footsteps came pounding around the corner, giving Grantaire brief warning before a warm body collided with his. He braced himself for the shouting he knew was coming, and was therefore entirely unprepared for the face that pressed into the side of his neck, blonde curls spilling into his mouth as he gasped at the impact. 

“Apollo?” Grantaire asked, daring to reach up and wrap an arm around Enjolras, carefully containing the energy rolling off of him in trembling waves. The lack of complaint about the nickname left Grantaire more worried than the hug, and he tightened his grip, daring to lean his cheek on Enjolras’ hair for a brief second before remembering himself and pulling back just enough that Enjolras could move away if he chose. 

Enjolras stepped back far enough to catch Grantaire’s eye, but not far enough to break out of his loose hold, and Grantaire gave himself half a heartbeat to believe that Enjolras wanted to be there. 

“You have to stop scaring me like this,” Enjolras answered, his words ghosting along Grantaire’s cheek and sliding up to catch his ear carefully, like Enjolras wasn’t sure he wanted to be heard. Grantaire had never heard him so uncertain and that, more than anything, unsettled him. 

“Hey, in my defense, I wasn’t really planning on this. I seem to have lost a few hours here, and I’m not any happier about it than you are.” 

“Two nights in a row, R,” Enjolras reiterated, finally stepping out of Grantaire’s grasp, and frowning at him. It wasn’t the frustrated frown that Grantaire was so familiar with, though, so he dared to stay close. 

Sighing, Grantaire scrubbed a hand through his hair and voiced the fears that had been gnawing at him since he first answered his phone. “I don’t know what to tell you, Enjolras, I really don’t. I didn’t think I’d had that much to drink, and I certainly shouldn’t be both blacking out for chunks of time, and simultaneously coherent right now. I don’t remember last night at all, but I didn’t realize I had forgotten it until you brought it up. I won’t touch another drink for the rest of this trip if it will make everyone feel better, but I really can’t tell you what is going on.” 

He took a stuttering breath, and tried to take a step backwards, to give himself some space, and nearly tripped over the cat that he had been petting while he waited for Enjolras. Stooping, he held out his fingers for the cat to bump their head against. 

Enjolras was quiet for a moment, then he crouched down and scooped up the cat, forcing Grantaire to either stand back up with them both or continue to stay huddled on the ground with no excuse except that he couldn’t meet Enjolras’ eyes. The cat let out an undignified yowl, but didn’t attempt to scratch, and Grantaire allowed himself to be led, standing back up and only curling in on himself slightly. 

Using the cat as an excuse, Grantaire reached over to scratch it under the chin, letting his fingers graze against Enjolras’ arm, looking for comfort, contact. He was entertaining the idea of asking Jehan to cuddle with him when they got back to the hotel, when Enjolras broke the silence. 

“We’ll worry about all of that when we get back to the hotel and you’ve had some water and a chance to breathe,” Enjolras said softly, squeezing the cat in his arms a little too tightly, until they swatted him on the cheek with one paw, a low growl sneaking its way out of the cat in a quiet monotone. “But, if it’s not too personal, can I ask why you left our friends, who were drinking I might add, to go drink alone?” 

Scooping the cat out of Enjolras’ arms and setting them down with a final pat to the head, Grantaire sighed and ducked his head. “We probably shouldn’t try and adopt strange English cats, Apollo. I mean, I just don’t think we’re at that stage of the relationship yet.” He started walking in the direction that Enjolras had come from, hoping that it was the direction that led back to the hotel and a bed and the end of this strange and awkward night. 

“R,” Enjolras sighed, shaking his head as he caught up to Grantaire. “If I’ve overstepped just tell me.” 

Taking a deep breath, Grantaire forced himself to meet Enjolras’ blue eyes. So very blue. How did being drunk always manage to make him forget just how blue they were? “It’s fine. It’s just...” he trailed off and scrubbed his hand across the back of his neck, but he didn’t let himself look away until tripping became a very real hazard. He was tired. Tired of hiding this. Or not hiding it, as the case may be, but of having it go unnoticed anyway. He was tired of pretending that everything was okay. 

“Grantaire?” 

For a moment Grantaire couldn’t breathe. He had always thought that hearing Enjolras use his nickname, the name he used with his friends, was bittersweet, but for all their disagreements and bickering, there had never been any doubt about their friendship, and he had always called him R. Grantaire had forgotten the way Enjolras could curl the sound of his name around until it sounded like a secret between them. 

“The truth of it is, you weren’t there, Apollo, and it was too loud, and everyone was distracted, and I wasn’t feeling like partying, and I really just wanted you to be there.” He let it all out in one long rush, afraid that if he paused to so much as breathe he wouldn’t be able to continue to force the words out. Especially if he gave Enjolras a moment to interject. Once the words were out, though, he couldn’t take them back, and he slowed his pace, but didn’t stop walking, afraid of what sort of reaction he might get. In his current state he wasn’t sure he could handle the rejection. 

“Then why didn’t you just come back to the hotel?” Enjolras asked, no rancor in his voice at all, which was the one thing that kept Grantaire talking. 

“Because, sometimes, being so in love with a friend that you can’t even enjoy a night out without them is the sort of thing you have to drink over,” Grantaire finally answered, hands shaking at finally having said it without the barrier of a joke to hide behind. 

The silence crackled around them and Grantaire slowed to a stop, unable to keep himself moving while Enjolras walked beside him in silence. 

“Look, I don’t expect anything from you, and if this puts a strain on our friendship I understand. I just had to stop holding onto it, I guess.” 

Still nothing. 

“I feel like I should be apologizing. Or turning around for another drink or six.” 

“Please don’t do that,” Enjolras cut in quickly. 

“Which part?”’ Grantaire asked, hating how bitter he sounded. “Because I already promised I wouldn’t drink anymore for the rest of this trip, and I may not be the most reliable person in the world, but I do keep my word.” 

“I know that, R. I meant apologize. I’m not angry. Maybe a little surprised, but not angry.” 

Snorting, Grantaire started walking again, hoping that Enjolras wouldn’t be so distracted that he forgot to tell Grantaire where he was going, because he had no idea where they were. “It’s not like I’ve gone to great lengths to hide it,” he shrugged, trying not to feel ignored. He knew that Enjolras was easily distracted from interpersonal matters and as a result didn’t always notice emotions the same as the rest of their friends and that he couldn’t hold it against him, but that didn’t stop his brain from telling him otherwise. He almost wanted to hold it against him, give himself the chance to get angry, or hurt, or anything that might make it easier to walk away. Instead he sagged, the heat drawing his shoulders down even farther, until he wanted to just list against the nearest wall and wait for cooler weather. 

Fingers brushed against his, causing him to jump, but when Enjolras flashed him a tentative flicker of a smile he didn’t pull away. 

“Honestly, you might not have, but I have been reliably informed that I sometimes need to be bludgeoned with these things before I notice.” 

“I can definitely attest to that,” Grantaire snorted, letting his finger brush against Enjolras’ hand very deliberately. 

Fingers laced through his, and Grantaire looked down at their hands tangled together, hoping the awe wasn’t obvious on his face. His wishing was clearly in vain, because Enjolras’ eyes went soft, and his free hand came up to brush against Grantaire’s cheek, feather light. 

They stood that way for a moment, and Grantaire was suddenly regretting the three drinks he had had earlier, wishing he could be more clearheaded for this, afraid that come the morning the memory would be gone. 

“Please don’t let me forget this tomorrow,” he whispered into the breath of space between them. 

The smile that flickered across Enjolras’ face stole away Grantaire’s breath, but it was nothing to the way his chest tightened when Enjolras leaned in and pressed a small kiss to his cheek, just at the corner of his mouth, as if he didn’t quite dare press for more. When he pulled away Grantaire listed after him, and only when he was leaning into Enjolras’ shoulder did he acknowledge that it might be at least partially the drinks. 

“How about we go back to the hotel, get you some water and I’ll stay with you tonight. Tomorrow you can bludgeon me with feelings and I’ll remind you of anything you’ve forgotten, and we can see how this all looks in the light of day.” 

“I think that I would agree to just about anything if it might earn me the chance at another kiss,” Grantaire whispered, forcing himself to stand upright. 

“We’ll talk about it when you’re sober.” 

Taking that little glimmer of hope and pressing it between his own hand and Enjolras’, which he boldly allowed himself to catch and hold onto, Grantaire let himself be led in what he had to assume was the direction of the hotel, not noticing the cat that slipped inside a door he couldn’t see. 

Just inside the door to the Leaky Cauldron a tabby cat sat down and groomed her whiskers briefly before shimmering and disappearing, only to be replaced by a woman with a stern face and glasses that were sliding down her nose. 

Shoving them up her nose with a little more force than she intended, Minerva walked back across the pub and settled back down next to Rolanda who was watching her with a barely concealed grin. 

“Go ahead and get it out, Rolanda, so that we may continue with our evening in peace.” 

“He’s not a student, Minerva, in fact, he was a grown man. You didn’t need to follow him to make sure he was okay.” 

“I had to obliviate him twice in two nights, Rolanda, I just wanted to be sure there were no lasting side effects.” 

“You’re going soft, I never thought I’d see it.” 

Raising her eyebrows Minerva finished off the drink she had been nursing and dropped a few sickles on the counter. “Let’s just say that he was charming in his own way, and he might have some insight that I would have rather he not have had.” 

“Anything I should be concerned about. Do we need to call the Ministry?” 

“Not that kind of insight. More of a personal nature.” 

A hand settled on top of hers on the bar, and Minerva looked at it slightly askance, but smiled to herself. “Are you okay?” Rolanda asked, squeezing her hand slightly. 

“I suspect I will be. I am going to see if Tom has a room for the night, I fear I’ve had more Firewhisky than I care to Apparate home on. Would you care to join me? I believe perhaps we should talk.”


End file.
